


high wire

by bloodandpepper



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hux-centric, Injured Hux, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Protective Kylo Ren, Undecided Relationship(s), blood a lot of blood, for once Kylo has done nothing wrong, idiots trying to get their shit together, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandpepper/pseuds/bloodandpepper
Summary: There's this sirupy warmth seeping down my chin, tickling along my neck and collarbone just to disappear into the sandy ground beneath the shoulder. Strange. I can't figure out where it comes from. Blinking my eyes open again, the whole world seems to have dropped out of its hinges: Two suns have sunken to the right next to the horizon and the shuttle  - disfigured and burning -  looms over the upper part of my view, casting a deep blue shadow that contrasts with the red rocky surface of the planet. Blaster fire is flying in all directions like overgrown insects, buzzing their way through the air, while white clad figures run and scream and fall.





	1. dancing on the high wire

There's this incredibly strange feeling I get the moment I realize, that I'm are falling: Fully aware of the action itself and yet beyond the ability to react. I see myself tumble; see it with the flashing clarity of the inner eye and being frozen in time nonetheless. 

At least until time decides to snap back into the right loop, like an elastic band suddenly tugged free. 

Then I hit the ground and the pain comes crashing over me like a tidal wave. And it's even more abstruse, that all these thoughts are coursing through my head in the milliseconds of my fall. 

 

My mind is still running, even if I can't move my limbs, and the pain, the pain is the only thing that's real. It claws its way to my brain and breathing and thinking all at once becomes a task to big for me to handle, so I have to close my eyes, focus on breathing and not thinking. 

One breath in.  
One out.

Repeat.

 

My lungs rattle and there's this wet, gurgling sound that has to come from my own throat, while the pain is somewhat pulsing along with each drag. It feels like a wire pulled to tight: Each little push and pull of my ribcage sends shivers everywhere, but it's exactly this piece of wire, that seems to connect me with the world around. 

That has to be it: I'm dancing on an high wire. Except that I've already fallen, my mind insists sullenly. 

Ah. Nice. At least I'm thinking again.

There's this sirupy warmth seeping down my chin, tickling along my neck and collarbone just to disappear into the sandy ground beneath the shoulder. Strange. I can't figure out where it comes from. Blinking my eyes open again, the whole world seems to have dropped out of its hinges: Two suns have sunken to the right next to the horizon and the shuttle - disfigured and burning - looms over the upper part of my view, casting a deep blue shadow that contrasts with the red rocky surface of the planet. Blaster fire is flying in all directions like overgrown insects, buzzing their way through the air, while white clad figures run and scream and fall. 

Dancing their own little dance on the high wire like clumsy prima ballerinas. 

It would be a beautifully surreal piece of art to look at, if my mind wouldn't choose this very moment to start puzzling the pieces together: I'm lying on the ground in a pool of my own blood while my troops are being slaughtered one by one around me. 

 

***___***

 

His thoughts were racing and there was panic starting to spread in the depth of his stomach, sending hot-red currents through his body. 

The gloved hand clawed into the headrest of the trooper's seat, making the man flinch at the sudden sound as the dark clad figure leant over his shoulder to inspect the data showing on the main displays. 

'Still no transmission from the General's shuttle?', the figure asked, voice strained. 'Still nothing, Lord Ren. Eight minutes until we reach the last confirmed location, Sir', the trooper said, busying himself with the controls to bring the vessel out of hyperspace. 

Eight more minutes. The knot in this stomach seemed to tighten and what previously had been pure panic, mixed with anger and frustration. He was helpless again, condemned to wait and, by all Gods in the galaxy, if there's one thing he's absolutely not good at at all, it's to sit down and just wait things out. The colorful lights and flashing scales of the comm indicating their approach to their final destination only served to make him angrier. 

With a annoyed grunt, he turned away to settle back into his seat at the viewpoint of the ship.

The distress signal of Hux's entourage had come in not half an hour ago, and Ren reacted immediately by grabbing the nearest available troopers and boarded his command shuttle. There'd been no need for further details or commands, given the fact that with the General gone, he alone was the commander in charge - not that anyone would dare to criticize his orders in the first place.

Ren's thoughts began to wander. Normally Hux wouldn't get into trouble easily, with all his plotting and planing. If he would be in need for a rescue mission, something entirely unpredictable must have crossed his way. And aside this one, lone distress call, there'd been no further signals coming from him. 

Nothing but blank silence.

There was this nagging voice in the back of his mind, whispering things to him. Things he didn't want to hear.

 

He's probably dead.

Accept it, he's gone.

Gone and left you behind.

Abandoned you like everyone else.

 

The singsong got progressively louder, until it rang in his ears like an echo, each bitter word overlapping the other in perfect dissonance. He closed his eyes and tried to reconnect himself with the darkness that kept these howling thoughts at bay. At least it normally would, but today his concentration failed him, his mind swirled in a disarray of battling voices. 

'Silent…be silent...', he uttered between clenched teeth, barely extinguishable through his mask's vocoder. 

In front of him, the troopers exchanged a worried glance, unsure of what to make out of their commander's strange behavior; but on the other hand, when had the Lord of the Knights of Ren ever made sense. At least his attention wasn't directed at them, and for this small mercy they were more than grateful. 

'We're dropping out of hyperspace, Lord Ren', the pilot announced while he scanned the area. The words of the pilot grounded him. With all the swirling stripes of stars coming to an halt, the ship began to descend through the orbit of a reddish planet. 

'I'm picking up heavy blaster fire in the southern hemisphere, Sir!' 

Ren rose from his seat, fixating the blinking dot that indicated the location on the display map, body tense and unmoving. 

He's gone, gone, accept it, gone like everyone else, left you behind, abandoned you…

Stop it, be quiet.  
There.  
He's there.  
I can feel it.  
I feel him.  
Hux.

 

Again, the hand clenches into the front seat. Leather on leather.

'All stations prepare for battle'

 

***____***

 

Moving onto my side to get a better view of the scene unfolding before me, takes more energy than I expected, but if I keep my breaths shallow, the pain is more bearable. I'm tired, so tired, but with sleep comes death, I'm well aware, so I'm trying to stay awake.

I'm a survivor at heart. 

The chaos around me seems to finally ebb away, with more and more of my troops littering the rocky ground. I'm trying to remember what had happened, but the blood loss makes my head spin and it's growing progressively harder to focus my gaze. 

Then something cold is pressed to my right temple and upon opening my eyes (when had I closed them in the first place? I'd fought so hard to keep them open), I come to realize, that some middle aged man is holding a blaster to my head.

'So many are dead, yet YOU of all people are still alive…', he lets the end of his sentence hang in the air like a veil. There's disbelief and disgust in his voice. He crouches down next to me on one knee, searching my gaze, while he's still holding the nuzzle of the weapon to my temple.

'You've killed so many, yet death does not come easy to you, does it?'

He's smiling now, a cruel, little smile. I'm not sure if he expects an answer from my side, but the blood still dripping from my lips, should be indication enough that talking isn't my strongest trait at the moment. Maybe I should feel fear or at least be worried about this whole situation, but I find myself being strangely calm and collected. This guy is somewhat right: Death does indeed not come easy to me. Never has, never will: I really am a survivor at heart, so I just hold his gaze the best I can and wait.

'It's kinda nice seeing you choking on your own blood', he spats. 'Maybe I just sit here and watch you bleed out slowly. A clean blaster shot to the head would be to much of a mercy for a bastard like you'.

If I wouldn't be so focused on not hacking my lung up with each breath, I would've laughed at that. Again: Touché. This idiot doesn't probably know how amusing he is. Laughing isn't an option, but, Kriff, no force in the galaxy would be able wipe that smile from my face now. A blood stained smile without mirth. 

'You filthy dog, what's so funny to grin like that?! You've gone insane, haven't you?!'

The blaster at my head is suddenly gone and I'm grabbed by the collar of my uniform, pulled up in one harsh movement. Pain starts to bloom from the center of my chest to the very last nerve ending like I'm electrocuted. I want to scream, but there's just blood rushing from my mouth.

The world starts spinning again, and it is, as if I could feel the high wire stretching tight beneath the soles of my boots. I'm dancing above the abyss, the wire as my life line. And if I would fall this time, there would be no ground to catch me; the precipice will open up to swallow me whole, I feel this deep in my bones. I have to keep dancing.

Drawing up my last strength, I claw at the hand that holds me up, still struggling to hold his gaze and everything is blur of shapes and colors, but it's in vain; I can feel the energy seeping out of me. The abyss is going to have me and now that I think about it - it doesn't look so scary anymore. Its darkness is welcoming me and I can hear it whispering, whisper my name.

Hux!  
For Kriff's sake, Hux!  
HUX!

It's not as ethereally soothing as I imagined my death call to be, but who am I to complain. I'm tripped over the precipice, no high wire anywhere, just free fall and blissful blackness.

 

***___***

 

Ren sliced through the body in front of him with the practiced ease of a battle worn soldier: every move efficient and final. To be able to act after all that horrid waiting felt deliberating. His anger still coursed through his veins and the voices accompanied him in the back his mind, fueled his drive - except this time, they gave him focus and determination instead of despair.

He watched, as the body dropped into an heap at his feet with one last, strangled cry, and turned around to face his next opponent, when the sight right in front of him made his blood run cold: Extended on an outstretched arm, pulled up like a doll with no life at all, was Hux. 

The voices in Ren's head picked up their panicked crescendo and for one pained moment, he was unable to move at all, frozen to the very spot. 

Time seemed to have come to an halt.

He's gone. He's gone. He's gone…  
Abandoned you.

A soundless scream began to form in his throat, but refused to spill beyond his lips, then his feet started to run out of their own accord.

Silence...  
BE SILENT!!!

He dashed forwards, and suddenly he'd been barely able to hear the taunting words over the crackling of his lightsaber, that accompanied his steps, rage pulsing through him like red-hot lava. The blade flickered as he swung it in one, clean move: The man holding Hux looked at him, as if Ren was a demon sent straight from hell - and in more than one way, yes, he was exactly that. Being the monster that dished out death for everyone, who dared to stand in his way. 

The man's head fell to the ground, while the rest of his body seemed to be stuck in limbo for one, long second, before it collapsed too, taking the limp body of the General with him. 

 

He's dead. He's gone. Too late.  
Too late, you are too late…

 

The scream, that stuck in his throat finally found its way out, and with the roar of a wounded beast, Ren flung the corpse off of Hux's body, sinking down on his knees to cradle the bloodied man to his lap. Through the Force, he searched for his life presence, and found it in the end: faint and decreasing, but definitely there. 

'Hux! For Kriff's sake, Hux! HUX!', he called, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, fear made it waver. 

Ren hadn't felt any fear in ages, but here, in this very moment, he was almost consumed by it. The General's face was white as a sheet and there was this hole in his chest, where something had pierced right through him. He tried to cling to Hux's life energy, coaxing it back to the surface again, whenever it tried to slip away, but he knew, he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. 

With a shaking hand, he brushed some sweat soaked red strands of hair from his forehead. Hux features were way to relaxed and peaceful. 

'Don't dare to die on me…', voice choked, barely above a whisper.

 

***___***

 

My free fall is stopped rather abruptly: It's as if something attached itself between my shoulder blades and pulled me up again powerfully. I'm not entirely sure, where exactly 'up' is, but I'm no longer descending. 

Maybe I'm growing wings. 

I have to snicker inwardly, the picture alone is way too kitschy and trashy. People don't grow wings - especially not people like me. 

People like me are eaten by black voids - and this suits me fine, really. Except that said black void no longer is completely black, no, here and there I can make out specks of red and brown and the harder I focus, the more detailed the colors get. What finally snaps me out of my pondering, is an oddly familiar voice, speaking directly in my head. This too should ring a bell and somehow it does, but it's still so hard to remember anything, so I try to figure out the hushed words and their meaning. 

'Don't dare to die on me…' 

Right.

Now I recall.

I'm dying. 

Or maybe I'm already dead - it's hard to tell. Maybe I got stuck in-between like a ghost - that would explain the floating. I have to mentally slap myself again. This is nonsense. I'm neither some winged creature nor a semi-transparent phenomenon.

I-  
I'm-  
I'm…

I can't remember. I just know that I brought death to the galaxy. It's strange how clearly I've internalized this fact, even in this weird state of 'not-quite-being'. I know, I've killed billions. 

So…maybe this is my punishment: Being stuck in between, torn from one side to the other in endless loops, never being truly able to reach one end.

I recall these ancient stories of half-gods being punished for their sins eternally: Prometheus chained to the rocks and tortured by the giant eagle, that rips out his insides over and over again, each day anew. Or Sisyphus with his task of rolling up this stone to the mountain top, just to be forced to restart, whenever he saw the finish line in front of him, because cruel Gods willed the stone back to the valley, each and every time. 

Maybe I have to travel between the worlds to redeem my deeds. I should probably feel self-pity, but when I try to clear my mind, there's just one sentence left surfacing: This suits me fine. I'm not Prometheus, or Sisyphus.

I'm 'in-between'. 

'HUX!' 

Ah, here it is again, this voice and the pull. And now I realize that these two accompany each other: With the voice comes the sharp move upwards. Only this time, I'm suddenly able to feel the high wire under my feet again. I'm not sure if this is supposed to happen, but I start to balance on it out of pure, fundamental instinct. The precipice's rim on the other side suddenly takes shape and the void has turned into a swirl of dull colors, growing more defined and real each passing moment. 

And nothing convinces me more of the circumstance, that I'm re-surfacing, than the pain that starts to throb in every cell of my body. 

I'm blinking my eyes open.

The suns have sunk down beyond the horizon and I can see a moon rising, and pink halo accompanying it.

But this is not the most remarkable thing I come to witness. 

Someone is laying over me, unmoving. He has his arms around me, holding me tight and it's oddly comforting, even through all the pain. I know him. I wish, I would be able to see his eyes. Warmth starts filling my body. 

This feels like home.

I'm no longer 'in-between'. I'm someone. And I do remember you. 

Ren.

 

***___***

 

He had failed so many times before: Let his temper overthrow him, focussed on the wrong aims, put faith into the wrong persons. But failing now wasn't an option. If he wouldn't succeed now, Hux would surely die, and this thought alone let his blood run cold. He had managed to get a hold on the General's life energy again, but the weakening state of this connection told him, that the man in his arms slowly bled to death, and no Force bond in the universe would be able to keep him alive.

He had to reverse the biggest damage somehow. Mend together the torn pieces, replace what had been lost: He had to heal. 

But.

Even with all his power in the Force: He was a creature of destruction and one to embrace the pain and the hurt. The act of recreation was a concept entirely foreign for him. 

He shut his eyes and pulled the broken body closer. The fear left a bitter taste in his mouth and he was still shaking slightly. He reached out one hand to let it settle as gently as possible over Hux's injury. The moment he felt for Hux's life energy, he redirected his focus: He didn't try to get a grip of his mind, instead he tried to sink into the structure of this body. Tried to feel the blood in his veins (too few), went for the webbing of Hux's inner organs (pierced and bruised) and finally let his own energy seep into the damage he found there.

He felt his pain, as if it was his own. But he could handle this, pain was familiar territory, he could deal with this. More and more energy left his own body in order to fix the man he held close. His head started to feel, as if it was filled with feathers. 

Suddenly he was flying.

He dreamt of a giant eagle soaring high on an mountain top and saw rocks rumble down the slope with deafening noise. He felt sickened by it, and wasn't able to tell why and how. 

Then the scene shifted and he found himself standing at the edge of a chasm so deep and dark, he wasn't able to see the ground. 

But there was a high wire stretched tight from one side to the other.

And there, so far away on the other side, Hux was standing. Uniform impeccable black, red hair shining like an halo in the sundown, gaze set straight ahead, testing the wire, while balancing. He set one foot in front of the other with a grace that bordered on dancing. It was mesmerizing to look at. He made progress fast and there were only a few dozen paces left to cross, when the wire started to shake and Hux struggled to keep the balance.

Ren's breath caught in his chest.

'HUX!', he screamed with the sudden realization, that this very scene had to be his gamble for Hux's life. The other man raised his eyes and looked at him, noticing him for the first time: The spark in his eyes spoke of recognition and something Ren wouldn't even dare to name. Then Hux's whole body tensed and he jumped, trying to reach solid ground with one desperate move.

Ren lunged forwards at the same moment, catching Hux's outstretched arm, body dangling dangerously close to the abyss, pulling him up, over the rim.

The two suns were sending their last rays over the horizon and night began to fall. Hux was breathing hard in his arms, but seemed to relax more and more.

Ren let his eyes fall shut.

He was tired. 

Dimly he heard Hux whisper his name, but his eyelids felt, as if they were made out of lead. 

This time he hadn't failed. The voices in the back of his mind remained blissfully silent.


	2. in the half-light

When I finally manage to get my eyes open, I want to close them again immediately: I'm looking straight into the face of chief medic Yant. She's not exactly unpleasant to look at, with her grey curls framing her pointy face, but seeing her can only mean one thing: Med bay. And I have next to no idea, how I ended up here in the first place.  
I try to get into an upright position, but a white-hot burn in my chest takes my breath away.

'General, I would advise you to stay put on your back. And in case you haven't noticed: You've got yourself a punctured lung, so spare me the fuss of sedating you again and remain exactly where you are,' she remarks in a voice that doesn't tolerate opposition.

When I'm finally able to somewhat breath without a wildfire burning its way through my body, I grace her with the best scowl I can muster.

'I see you're feeling better, if you are already able to glare daggers at me, not two minutes after you finally gained consciousness again.’ 

There aren't that many people in the galaxy that aren't scared to rouse my anger, and quite unfortunately, Dr. Yant is one of them. She observes her data pad in concentration, the screen highlighting her face and let her appear older than she actually is.

'Lord Ren brought you back’, she says without looking up.

My eyes widen.

The high wire. Free fall.  
And Ren.

'With all due respect, General: You ought to be dead.'  
Her words snapping me back to reality.

'With an internal injury as yours, you shouldn't have been able to hold out longer than a few minutes. Yet, you came in with wounds showing clear signs of actual healing - as if you recovered over a long period and under intensive care…'The end of the sentence is hovering in the air like a veil and her gaze meets mine for along moment. Obviously not finding any useful answers there, she closes the data pad to put it down on the small table beside my bed with a sigh.

The funny thing is: I can’t remember a damn thing except these dreamlike snippets, that don’t make sense at all. 

'…which brings me to my next, urgent problem', Yant continues, letting her ring and middle finger draw little circles at the center of her forehead, massaging the spot there, as if to rub away a starting migraine.

 

When she lets her hand sink again, she's looking over my bed to the part of the room that lays to my left. I turn my head, to follow the course of her eyes.

In a cot next to mine is Ren: White as a sheet and apparently deep asleep.

'His readings are perfectly normal – nonetheless, he seems to be stuck in some kind of coma. Probably something Force-related giving the nature of this...profession. Confession. Whatever. In all honesty, I have no clue. But…’

She trains her gaze back on me, still seeking answers from me I can’t offer.

'You should be dead, and this guy should be awake - yet both of you are neither', she further explains, wonder and frustration lacing her voice in equal measure.

‘It doesn't need a genius to see a connection between these two phenomena. Whatever Lord Ren did in order to get you back from the brink of death, it did have severe consequences for himself. Consequences he most likely had been willing to take.' 

I have to focus on steadying my breathing, my heart is beating hard against my ribcage and the fire in my lungs is burning again.

Ren…this idiot.

'Don't you think it's some kind of irony that the two of you have to save each other again? You picked up Lord Ren half dead from an icy, crumbling world, and he ran off, to get you back - more torn than whole - from a rocky dust ball, orbiting two suns. You boys really have a knack for drama, haven't you?'

Her arms are crossed in front of her chest now and she looks more like a scolding teacher, than the Finalizer’s head medic.

'…and every damn time, both of you end up floating in my bacta tanks', she adds, amusement and annoyance oddly mixed.

Trying to pry my eyes away from Ren’s sleeping form is harder than it should be. I shouldn’t care, the rational side of my mind is telling me, but its voice is like an uneven humming in the back of my head, while there’s another tune, not any less true, whispering a clear and insistent ‘You fool, you do care.’ 

‘You care for him, don’t you…’, Yant asks.

Mirrored words, spoken aloud.

And yet they shock me. Am I that obvious?  
I avoid her gaze and while I’m trying to come up with a believable answer, she dims the lights. Her hand is on my shoulder as she pulls up the cover.

‘No need to answer, General. Sleep. We will find a solution.’ 

A solution for what? My vehemence in trying not to care and failing nonetheless? How to bring back Ren from wherever his mind wandered off? 

For both tasks I would need more luck than my life could probably offer right now. 

 

***____***

 

It was like the soft murmur of water running over a pebbled ground. Soothing and serene. He was dimly aware that someone is speaking to his mind, but he was too tired to focus on its content, too sleepy to make out words and sentences. The voice was so wonderfully familiar and he let himself be adrift with this flow for a little bit longer, cherishing the way the voice lulled him in. But he couldn’t stay here forever, there was a strange certainty in that, he instinctively knew. With a sigh, he finally breached the surface, bright light engulfing him.

‘Lights 10 percent’, a voice said and what had been a flood of blinding white, morphed into the shadowy reality of a narrow med bed and a star speckled window with a person right in front of it, crouched in an armchair that appeared strangely contrasting next to the functional interior surrounding it. 

It took some time to adjust, but even without his full eyesight, he would’ve recognized this figure anywhere, anytime. In the soft starlight, his features were even more prominent: high cheekbones, full lips and a gaze that spoke of sharp intelligence and willpower. 

‘Hux…’ he croaked, voice strained with lack of use. 

His hair was down, falling in loose strands over his eyes, while his whole frame seemed to have shrunken into the woolen blanked covering his shoulders and upper body, all tension gone. Stubble on his cheeks and chin, his mouth pressed to a thin line, he appeared more like an alternate version of himself, incredibly tired and worn thin.

‘You look like shit’, was all Ren could come up with.

A dry laugh answered him and like in slow motion the man who was Hux and at the same time was not, supported his head in the palm of his hand, elbow on one armrest, heavily leaning his weight on it, but his eyes were trained on him and they spoke of all the strength his body was currently lacking. 

‘Look who’s talking. You went to beauty sleep for fifteen fucking days with no way to rouse you and yet have the gall to..’

Whatever Hux may have wanted to retort further was lost in a vicious coughing fit that shook is whole body and with a hand clawed to his chest, he fought for air. The blanket fell to the side and for the first time Ren noticed that he wore the usual pale med bay garb with bandages poking through at the front. 

‘Hey, are you okay?’ This was another stupid thing to say, but sitting upright so suddenly did funny things to his head and his rescue move was cut short when the world started spinning for a moment. 

‘Obviously.’ Hux leant back in his armchair, sweat on his forehead and mouth still drawing in shaky gulps of air. 

‘You got injured…’

This time, Ren actually made it up, crouching at the foot of the cot to lean over, drawing a hand over Hux’s damp cheek while his breathing evened out slowly. To his surprise he met no resistance – even more so, Hux seemed almost docile, accepting the intimate gesture, whereas other times, he would’ve fought it with all his might. Ren decided to savor this moment, no matter the circumstances.

Hux’s breath ghosted over the back of his hand and what started as a slow exhale, turned into a wavering whisper.

‘Nothing is easy with you. Nothing. Ever.’ 

‘That’s who I am. What I am.’ Another stupid answer, Ren thought. He definitely had to work on those.

‘You are horrible.’ 

‘I know.’ 

Another shaky laugh and a sigh, then, sudden and feather light, Hux turned his head down a bit to kiss the base of his thumb. If nothing else would’ve convinced Ren that something was terribly off, it had to be this. Hux wasn’t one for tenderness – no matter the situation.

‘You don’t remember what happened, do you?’ 

Frankly spoken: He had not the slightest idea. He dimly remembered being on his shuttle and then in some kind of battle situation, but nothing was of real substance, his memories scattered and fragmentary. 

But he remembered a gut-wrenching panic that shook his very core. Images started bubbling up to the forefront of his mind: Hux, cradled in his arms, covered in blood, his presence in the Force a mere flicker. 

 

Ren’s dark eyes were wide with dread.

 

‘…I…you…you were dying.’


	3. mirrored words

I’m falling.  
The abyss will swallow me alive.  
Pain, so much pain, I can’t breathe.

 

Starling awake, I rake my shaking hands through my hair and try to slow my heartbeat, taking in measured gulps of air. Breathing in deep still hurts.

It’s this dream again.  
This fucking dream again. I wish, I could cram it back to the depths of my mind, lock it away to be never seen again. Yet it crawls back to the forefront of my mind to haunt me as it pleases. On some level I know I’m just trying to get past the trauma of this nice, little near death experience my injury has caused me, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than just that. 

I try to get up, but there’s an arm draped loosely over my hip, its weight solid and strangely comforting.

Ren’s still asleep. 

He hasn’t left. No, that’s not how things truly are: I haven’t been able tothrow him out of my quarters since we were both able to leave med bay. I can’t help the sigh that rises from deep within and I have to draw my hands over my face to smother it. 

He seems to dream, eyes moving restless beneath his lids, mouth parted a bit and exhaling softly. Ren isn’t handsome per se, but there’s something unique about him, I can’t name. I remember the saying ‘perfection kills beauty’ and in his case, there’s absolutely no perfection, but a lot of that killed beauty left in store. Actually, it’s quite fitting for a creature like him. 

Lifting his arm to the side, I slowly slip free from his embrace. Leaving the warmth behind, goosebumps are rising up my arms and across my bare chest. 

My steps seem to be unnaturally loud in the silent room, till I come to stop in front of the viewport. We are still in orbit; the reddish halo of the planet reflects in the durasteel and casts the room in a rust red tone. My mirror picture is tinged red, too. The wound in the center of my torso looks almost black though – healed, but still rough and ugly. My fingertips trace its beginning on my sternum. It describes a short line down, then a sharp tilt to the left, crossing the plane of my pectoral. Yant mentioned that if the injury had just been a little more to the side, it would’ve been my heart to take the damage. I would’ve been dead almost instantly and Ren could never have made it in time, no matter what powers me may possess. 

Yet, here I am. The Force seems to want me to be alive – or more precisely: Kylo Ren wants me to be alive. Half of the civilized galaxy yearns to see my head on a stake, but I continue to exist.

I’m the world ender, my halo is rust red and there’s a high wire under my feet on which I balance day in, day out, yet here I am.

If there’s a God above, it surely has to be a cruel one. And one with a humor as dark as the blackest hole. Charming, how charming. 

I feel my lips twist into a lopsided smile. 

‘What are you smiling for? And why for Kriff’s sake are you up in the middle of the night circle…’ 

His voice is still laced with sleep and his skin glows like amber in the light, as his arms snake around my waist and I can feel his broad chest across my back.

‘Just thinking.’

A snort is answering me. 

‘That’s all you ever do. No reason to get up at all.’ The words sound playful on the surface, but they carry a certain edge. His hands fan out on my stomach, underlining the message, requesting an honest answer.

‘I’ve been dreaming.’ 

I have to pause, unsure how and how much to reveal. Old habits die hard: I’ve never been close with anyone. But. Ren is one of the few constants in my life - as unstable as he may be. 

And there’s this small but persistent voice in the back of my mind telling me ‘he loves you’. This wouldn’t change anything for the better, but it’s a starting point somehow. I let my eyes drop and lean my head back against his shoulder, his curls are tickling my cheek.

‘Bad dreams.’ I swallow. ‘…bad dreams about dying. But I’m still here, am I not…you made sure of that.’ The arms surrounding me are drawing me in closer, but other than that, there’s no answer coming from Ren. ‘I’ve never thanked you for that, haven’t I? I’m quite selfish. Taking anything and everything for granted.’ The small, cruel smile is back on my lips.

‘I love you.’ 

His voice is barely above a whisper, words spoken into my skin.

‘I know. Have known for quite some time.’ I lift my head and let my gaze linger on the planet. Its red halo is really a sight to behold. ‘See, that’s why I’m selfish. I just take without giving.’

‘That’s who you are. What you are.’

Now I have to laugh. Mirrored words again. Somewhere this god with its black humor is laughing too.

‘I’m horrible.’ Yes, I truly am and saying it aloud makes it even more real.

Below us, the planet is spinning and we along with it, in orbit with each other. I’ve killed billions and there will never be no blood on my hands. But right now I wear a halo like a crimson crown and Kylo Ren is the high wire catching me whenever I fall. One day, maybe one day, I will be able to be a not so horrible person and then I might be able to say the words I want so say, but can’t right now.

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty: I haven't written any fan fiction in ages, but I had this strange urge for injured!Hux and upon finding surprisingly few stories, I just had to develop my own, it's as simple as that.


End file.
